


In Service to Our King

by ItsAlwaysBloodMagic



Series: Walk Tall [2]
Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Angst, Angst and Humor, Canon Compliant Time Travel, Character Spoilers, Epic Friendship, FlashForwards I guess, Flashbacks, Friendship, Gen, Gen or Pre-Slash, Gladnis if you squint, Heavy Angst, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Torture, Poor Everybody, Poor Prompto, Post-Endgame, Uniforms, endgame spoilers, seriously so much angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-31
Updated: 2017-10-31
Packaged: 2019-01-27 08:43:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,727
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12578004
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ItsAlwaysBloodMagic/pseuds/ItsAlwaysBloodMagic
Summary: "Hey guys, why don't we ever wear our Kingsglaive outfits?"





	In Service to Our King

**Author's Note:**

> Takes place post - game. The boys call Umbra and are transported to the past, having no memory of what will come.
> 
> This is a companion piece to Walk Tall.
> 
> Spoilers - indirectly references the endgame and character - relevant plot lines.

“Hey guys, why don’t we ever wear our Kingsglaive outfits?”

“They are uniforms, Prompto. And they would draw undue attention. The Empire is already breathing down our necks as it is.” Ingis looked up from the desk he was seated at. A map was laid out, edges spilling over the corners. Gladio could tell it was getting on Iggy’s nerves by the way he kept trying to tuck the ends under to make it fit, then untuck them when he needed to consult an area hidden by his own hands. He balanced a notebook on one knee and grimaced every time his pen threatened to knock it onto the floor. Gladio knew better than to show amusement. There was no getting on Iggy’s good side when he was like this. 

They were in a small, dusty hotel room in the middle of nowhere. Their itinerary had been disrupted more times than Gladio could count in the last two weeks, which was most likely the true source of his friend’s irritation. Ignis was doing his hardest to sort the situation out, and the group, as they were, was glad to leave him to it. Ignis was a mastermind at this stuff. It was best to let him work through his frustration until he arrived at an answer. Gladio knew a solid plan would be waiting on the other side, even if it was thrown to the wind in less time than it took to come up with it.

“But they’re so fashionable!” Prompto was perched on one of the king size beds, his suitcase open in front of him. He had the sleeve of the uniform draped over the side and was fingering the gold fringe. “The Kingsglaive always look like they’re posing for an album cover.”

Noctis was standing in front of the bathroom mirror fussing with his hair. He only ever got halfway through straightening it, and most of the time only the front was styled, the back left to the whims of bedhead. It was Prompto’s fault. Like clockwork he would get impatient with waiting, eventually shoving Noct out of the way to claim the mirror for himself. The boy had some mad makeup skills and an hour-long morning routine to go with them.

“Not everybody can pull of the glaive look like Nyx Ulric, Prom.” Prompto’s face went red, and Noct smirked. “And anyway, it’d clash with your 90’s lesbian style. You gonna wear the vest with the nipple tassels today?”

Prompto went to shrug said vest over his shoulders, his flannel peeking out underneath. “You know it!” he said cheerfully. 

Gladio snorted, grinning at the boy from where he was sitting on the opposite bed. “Princess here needs to start acting like a king before we even consider the uniform.”

“Hey, I am a king!”

“Pretty sure kings don’t whine when they assert their kingliness.”

“Gladiolus.” Gladio looked over to the desk. Ignis had his hand clenched around a corner of the map, crumpling the paper. It wasn’t a good sign. “Noctis is our king, and we would do well to treat him with respect.”

He felt his head duck down on its own. Ignis had that effect on people. “Sorry mom.” He peeked out through the strands of hair falling over the side of his face. A corner of Iggy’s mouth turned up, and his grip loosened slightly on the paper. It was a well-kept secret that Ignis liked being called mom. Gladio wasn’t averse to using that little tidbit of information to extricate himself from under the man’s disapproving glare from time to time.

“Come on, guys, we’re way out in the middle of nowhere and we’re gonna be spending days crawling through a cave. A dark cave.” Prompto shivered. “Nobody down there to recognize us, right?” 

Prompto was oblivious to Iggy’s moods. The boy would skip right through the layers of irritation, rambling on about sunshine and rainbows and whatever else caught his fancy. Iggy would brighten right up, and both men would be none the wiser as to why he was suddenly happy. 

Gladio was prepared for Ignis to deny the request outright, but as always, obliviousness won out. “Well, I suppose it wouldn’t do any harm. The protection provided is superior to the Crownsguard uniforms.”

“Woo hoo!” Prompto leapt into the air, tumbling gracefully onto the floor with the bedsheet wrapped around his ankles. “Iggy, I bet you look really hot in yours. I’m gonna take so many pictures!”

Ignis looked startled for a moment before a downright flattered expression settled on his face. Gladio stared, but it was gone in an instant, replaced by the familiar composure that made up Ignis Scientia. “Remember, however, the uniform is meant for the king’s army. We will need to take up the mantle when we return to Insomnia, but in the meantime we are still acting as Crownsguard. Therefore - Prompto, are you even listening?”

Gladio’s father was suddenly very present. He willed back the tears that threatened him most days. It hurt, but Gladio wasn’t gonna let himself think about it. He cast a glance into the bathroom and was relieved to see that Noct was still fixing his hair, clearly not listening to the conversation. The kid had just begun casually throwing the word “king” around. He didn’t need a reminder of everything they’d lost.

He reached down under his bed and hauled out his suitcase, setting it next to him. He unzipped it and dug through the contents until he felt the crisp lines of the uniform where it was neatly folded at the bottom. Iggy’s work, of course. He began laying it out in front of him. Pants. Undershirt. Vest. Jacket. Boots. When he went to smooth the few wrinkles that had formed on the shirt, an overwhelming sense of something not yet known settled across his shoulders. It was like déjà vu while managing to be so completely unlike it that Gladio struggled to describe it in words, or even feel it in all its complexity. It was familiar, like a memory, and then – oh, Gods.

Grief broke like a tidal wave through his chest. It was filling up his lungs, and he was going to drown in it.

He scanned the room. Ignis had moved away from the desk to pull his uniform out from where he had so carefully hung it in the tiny hotel closet. Prompto was lying on his back staring dreamily into space, not yet having picked himself up from the floor. And Noctis – 

A second wave hit. This one threatened to carry him away into an unknown future where everything he had vowed to protect was gone. He expected shame. It wasn’t there, and Gladio didn’t know what to think of that. In its place was determination, pride, satisfaction in the knowledge that he would serve his king to the very end.

A tiny part of him wondered why the certainty of sacrifice was so present when he was sitting in a dingy hotel room and Noctis the prince – he was a king now, Gladio reminded himself – was standing in front of a smudged-up bathroom mirror teasing gel through his hair. He came back to himself and stared down at the hand that had frozen over the shirt's collar. 

Breathe deep. Look at your friends. Noct is okay. He’s right there, and he’s safe. You’re safe.

His eyes lit on Ignis. He was standing by the closet, posture rigid. Gladio looked down and realized Ignis was holding the Kingsglaive pants up to his waist. He was facing half toward Gladio, and his shoulders betrayed enough that Gladio knew what was coming next.

Ignis set his jaw. A crease formed between his eyebrows, and a bitterness settled over the room that was thick enough to cut with a knife. Gladio went to him, touching his arm lightly to draw his attention.

“Iggy. “

It was enough to break the man. An almost imperceptible shift happened somewhere between his forehead and his chin. “I can’t – I apologize. I need some air.” Ignis was out the door before Gladio had a chance to process it. He made to follow, was stopped by a desperate sort of sound behind him.

“Did Iggy leave? Why - please, Gladio, don’t you leave too. I was alone for so long…” The end of the plea was turned up in confusion. Gladio turned around to see Prompto looking much younger than his twenty years, and lost. He was sitting upright on the floor, the jacket in his lap, tracing circles into the shoulder pads with his thumb. It was a nervous tic, something he did to bring himself back when he was on the brink of panic. Gladio had seen it happen on a couple of occasions, once in a too-cramped cave and once after a daemon hauled him away from the group. When they found him he was glassy – eyed and nonresponsive. The only sign that he was with them was the slow circle he drew over the palm of one hand, over and over again.

Gladio had to make a choice. He got Noct’s attention with a sharp “Hey Princess”, hoping it would cut through the muddled half - memories. He jerked his head toward Prompto and watched as Noctis rushed to his friend’s side. He noticed the prince (king, Gladio, king) was careful not to touch him, the lack of contact standing out in contrast to their usual entanglement of limbs. He opened the door to the cool mist that had settled on the parking lot overnight, content in the knowledge that Noctis would know what to do.

Ignis was sitting on the steel green bench directly outside their room. They were on the ground floor and the concrete smelled like rain. Gladio sat next to him and reached for his hand. Ignis took it, holding on like it was the only thing anchoring him to this place, this moment in time.

“We can talk or we can sit here and be quiet. Whatever you need.” Gladio stared straight ahead when he spoke.

He wasn’t surprised to hear Ignis’ voice, and it made him confident in the choice to let go of his hand and drape one arm across his shoulders, pulling him close.

Ignis took his glasses off and stared down at them like their presence baffled him. “Gladiolus, it was like – I’m sorry, this is going to sound outlandish.” Gladio made an understanding sound, encouraging him to go on. “For a moment I couldn’t see anything. The world just went black. I feel so selfish, and I have no idea why, it is completely irrational, but I don’t think – Gladio, we cannot – no, I don’t want to.” Ignis emphasized these words, as though this was personal, and maybe it was. His voice shook with a bitter kind of disappointment. Gladio knew Ignis well enough to understand why. A royal chamberlain was not allowed selfishness. It was as much a betrayal of duty as allowing your king to be cut down while you still live. “The idea of going to Altissia fills me with dread. I don’t know if I have it in me to carry us there.” He looked up at Gladio, and he was pleading. “Gladiolus, if – when” Ignis took a breath, changing the plea into a demand. “When I am no longer fit to serve, you will tell me.” Ignis said it so casually, like there was no doubt it would happen. It made Gladio feel sick.

“Iggy, you will always, always be fit to serve.” Gladio ran his fingers through Ignis’ hair and Ignis worked his head down to rest on Gladio’s shoulder. He did his best to ignore the wet spot that was forming just under his friend’s cheek. They sat in silence until Gladio’s arm fell asleep and his back began to complain. He shifted a little to get comfortable and Ignis sat up. 

“We had better go back inside” Ignis said. He had regained some of his composure, but there was a vulnerability shining through that he didn’t try to hide. If circumstances were better, Gladio would have been proud of him for letting it show. Instead he felt his heart break.

Gladio opened the door, ushering Ignis in first, then following and closing the door softly behind him. He saw the man still and then walk softly toward one of the beds. Prompto and Noctis were still there, right where Gladio had left them. Noctis was sitting a few feet from his friend, far enough away to avoid accidental touch. He looked at Ignis when they entered. “He doesn’t believe I’m me” he said softly. Gods, those were tears on his face. “He doesn’t believe I’m me, and he keeps saying he doesn’t know if he’s real, or him, or something… I don’t know, he’s not making a lot of sense, but he – he won’t let me –“ Noct reached toward Prompto, demonstrating. The boy flinched and scrambled back toward the wall. He looked like he was torn between fighting Noct’s touch and submitting to it. For the second time that day Gladio felt like he might vomit. He’d seen something similar in men captured and held by the Niffs. Prompto looked like he had been tortured.

“Noct, I got it. Go sit somewhere that’s not here.” 

He put as much authority as he could into the command, willing Noctis to retreat. When Noct stood, Prompto’s eyes went wide. “Promise you’ll come back” he whispered. He spoke in the same broken tone he had used before. His voice went soft. “For good this time, okay?” Prompto dropped his focus to the floor, eyes fixing on something only he could see. Gladio took a seat next to him facing the same direction, plenty of space between them, like Prom was some frightened animal. 

“Noct’s not going anywhere. Just moving back a little. Noctis, stay in his line of sight, okay? Just sit in that chair up against the wall and play a game on your phone or something. Iggy, can you make some hot water in the coffee maker?” 

Ignis was good in a crisis. He went to make the water, and managed to rummage up some tea to go with it.

It took a long time to calm Prompto down, but Gladio was eventually able to pull the Glaive’s uniform out of his hands. The boy accepted the tea from Iggy and warmed his hands on the mug, slowly coming back into his body. When he finally looked around his grin was shaky, but it was there, and the room was a little brighter for it. 

“Thanks guys” he said, and Gladio felt the veil of whatever the hell just happened finally lift. The calm only lasted for a second before Noctis stood up and stormed toward them. Gladio saw Prompto flinch again. He could have punched Noct in that moment. The King of Lucis, in all his maturity, took his own suitcase from under the bed and opened it with the force of a thousand pissed off teenagers, dumping the contents on the floor by his chair. Gladio looked up at him sharply, an angry reprimand forming on his lips. Noctis grabbed something before returning to the chair and Gladio finally stopped being pissed long enough to process what was happening. He took in the sight of Noctis, legs resting on ripped upholstery, clutching the king’s version of the uniform in his lap. The stylized armor sported a tear along the shoulder seam, put there by the boy’s own hand. Gladio realized he meant to destroy it. He wasn’t pulling on the seams any more though. Instead the fabric was cradled with something close to reverence. Something shifted in Noctis, and Gladio saw him aged ten years and seated on a throne, finally worthy of the garb. Noctis was looking down at the clothing in his hands. When he looked up again, Gladio drew in a breath. He had settled, somehow, his demeanor calm. There was a deep wisdom in the way he held himself that Gladio had never seen before. He was tired, certain, and somehow resigned. Noctis looked around the room, meeting their eyes one by one. He didn’t need to struggle for words. They had been there all along.

“I know what I have to do.”

**Author's Note:**

> I can never put the boys in the Kingsglaive uniforms post-game. It just hurts too much. So they run around in their Crownsguard outfits and it's like none of it ever happened.
> 
> Thanks for reading!


End file.
